


Barefoot

by Fairy (laterie)



Series: KINGS [5]
Category: GOT7
Genre: EXPLICIT CONTENT AS BLOWJOB AND SEX, Fighting, Fluff, I hope Jackson's is gonna buy a better carpet, I'm gonna make Mark talk to Jackson more about jype treating him like he's a janitor, Jinyoung is there to help, M/M, Mark deserves the whole world, Milo is innocent he's a baby stop putting blame on your smol baby, Partly inspired by real events, happy ending i swear, i'm telling you throught tags that MARK TUAN is an angel who deserves the heavens, it's not easy to have husband who's an idol i know, marriage life, panic attack tw, they would marry each other again and again, yes Mark climbing Jinyoung is a real video you can find it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22527589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laterie/pseuds/Fairy
Summary: Mark never takes anything for granted. While Jackson is away Mark is slowly breaking down. Not only because he misses his husband, but for thousands of reasons which he would never tellanyonebut Milo.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Series: KINGS [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569673
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	Barefoot

**Author's Note:**

> I planed a bad ending for this story, but I was scared that markson would come to knock on my door and fight me.

Mark was walking and sleeping while he was trying to clean the mess out of their home. There were tones of laundry waiting to be folded, the dishes to unload, and Milo, who had a bad day because he kept bothering Mark like there was no tomorrow. If anyone asked him how his married life looks, Mark would roll his eyes and never look back at them. It was a rollercoaster of ecstasy and gloomy days when Mark wished he could call someone to help him understand the need for marriage.

One would say that there was nothing to worry about when the husbands weren't in their shared place that often, but _goddamit_ when they were, they didn't spend the time cleaning. So, they messed the place a bit more and then left for their tight schedules. 

Since Mark couldn't let Milo alone or ask Yungyeom, he had to take the little fur devil himself. The bigger the progress was, the more Milo thought it would be okay to mess it again, and so Mark was walking in circles, exhausted and dead inside. 

"Milo, stop it!" Mark looked at his dog with red-rimmed eyes. 

Jackson's turn to clean up the mess, but of course, Jackson was busy with his career and flung to China for the Chinese New Year's event following with the New York schedule. Mark envied him, he wouldn't lie, but there was nothing he could do about it. Although he was invited to a New Year's ball to perform, his manager suddenly called him that JYPe had a different idea about his solo. Mark shut himself down and didn't talk to anyone. Since he was a little boy, his parents put on his heart that if he has nothing kind to say, he shouldn't say anything. But _damn,_ this is not how the adult world works. Mark wasn't a kid anymore, not since the day he stepped on the foreigner land and had to take care of himself. 

"You know, it would be easier if I weren't alone for everything!" 

Milo barked at him, probably didn't even give a heck about what Mark was talking about, but it was still acceptable to be approved even when it was just bark. 

"I'm not saying that he shouldn't take the opportunity, of course, he should, but he's married, you know?" Mark looked from the tower of laundry, which was lying on the king-sized bed. "He said he'd get married when he's famous enough and when he fulfills each of his dreams." Mark was waving with the oversized white shirt as he explained passionately. 

"And what about me?" he pointed at himself, "what about my dreams? That's it? Taking care of his dirty pants?" he threw the shirt away. "I have dreams too, Milo! Why is he not here so I can step into the game?!" 

Mark refused to be envious or angry at Jackson. He battled the unsettling, dark feelings for weeks now, and when he was finally alone, he let the pressure to bubble up the verbal vomits on the surface. Of course, Jackson wasn't the one to be blamed, but the day they had decided to get married, Jackson should've known that whole new responsibilities are awaiting them.

"If anything, he should've rejected the event and spend the New Year with me!" 

And so, it was out. 

Mark took a deep breath through his clenched teeth and took the anger out on the pile of laundry. He tossed piece after piece of clothing across the room. When he managed to calm down a bit, he sat down on the edge of the mattress, biting his lip to prevent himself from crying. 

"I thought it would be different," he looked at Milo that was lying on the floor near the bedroom doors, "I thought he would cut off his schedule to spend more of his time with _me._ " 

Mark caught himself hiccupping, which turned into an ugly, too long surpassed sob, "do you think I love him more than he loves me?" 

Milo was only looking at him from under his white fur as if suddenly, the dog could understand each of Mark's words. The unpleasant feeling – the sadness from his master, nailed Milo to the floor. 

"Milo…" Mark wiped his tears into the long sleeves of his sweatshirt, "I need to talk to someone." 

When Mark was saying _goodbye_ to his parents at the airport, he wouldn't think that cleaning his home would be so frustrating and depressing that it would lead to a moment of heartbreak. He should've let Jackson come home into a mess and let him re-think every _one_ of his decision. 

"He has a place to crash at anyway." Mark's mood turned red, "I say _fuck it,_ Milo!" 

The dog lifted its head and licked his nose, being alarmed by Mark's tone. 

"I lied to my parents." 

When his mother asked if everything is alright between Mark and Jackson, it took Mark two seconds to answer, which his mother detected as an attempt at lying. Mark shook his head, insisting that it's just the separation that is messing with his moods, but Jackson is still _his,_ and that's all that matters. 

And though Mark was angry and would probably yell at Jackson right now, there was nothing he desired more than to see his husband. 

Mark left the apartment messy, with Milo in his hands and tears drying on his face. 

**

Two days later, Jinyoung was hanging out in Mark's apartment, drinking wine, and watching MASH with Mark trying to translate the hilariously sarcastic quotes. Mark lacked the bitchy vocabulary because he didn't even think that the Korean language has such stingy words, but Jinyoung showed him otherwise. 

Somewhat they've got from laughing their asses off at Pierce and Hunnicutt to Jinyoung slowly changing the topic to Jackson because that was the main reason why he came here in the first place: Mark and his poor state of mind. But for Mark, the lonely man didn't understand who talking about sex should ease his frustration. 

"So, you do your dirty talk in English?" Jinyoung asked, emptying his second glass of red wine. 

"Most of the time." 

"Well, it kinda sounds sexy in English." 

Mark puffed his cheeks, frustrated, "Jackson teaches me Kantanose only so I can be dirty with him in the bed."

Jinyoung laughed, "that sounds like him."

It wasn't even that funny for Mark, more like embarrassing, like he was some porn actor who had a role to play. He tried to explain to Jackson that it's unnecessary, and he's not going to learn only those _words,_ but Jackson only chuckled and ignored Mark's attempt to learn the language properly. 

"Sometimes, I think that he's still the boy I met nine years ago." Mark was resting on the couch, with one of his arms behind his head, his legs spread open and comfortable. "He has moments when _I_ can swear to god I'm experiencing past-life scraps." 

Mark zoned out for a moment, sliding his hand under the sleeveless t-shirt he borrowed from Jackson and never gave back. Mark knew that if Jackson were here now, it would turn him on, the vision of Mark wearing his clothes, but Jackson wasn't _there,_ not even in _South Korea_ or in China _._ Having Jinyoung at his place was like having a ghost, because though Jinyoung was an amazing best friend, Mark couldn't stop thinking about the miserable feeling he had every time Jackson popped up into his mind like a rainbow in the darkness. 

"Shit, now I'm singing Dio in my head," Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, "what the heck is wrong with me?"

"I have no idea," Jinyoug answered, "but it's kinda amusing to watch you being honest with yourself."

" _Yeah,_ one day I'm gonna show my true colors to our fans, that's what you want?"

"They would _love_ you," Jinyoung assured him, "they would love how you have an explanation for everything and how miserable you think life is when your husband is a foot away from you. You reflect their broken heart perfectly."

"I don't have a broken heart!" Mark stretched out his long leg to kick his best friend. 

"Last time I was at your place, Jackson looked like the heart-broken." 

Mark stilled, giving Jinyoung a long glare that turned into a curious confusion, "what do you mean?"

"His insecurities? Jackson is like a walking heartbreak." 

Mark kept staring at his best friend, trying to read between the lines, and it didn't take him long to understand. He always fell into the tune fast like well-oiled gears. When it came to taking care of people, nobody could even reach Mark's delicate handling. Instead of letting Jackson balancing on the thin line between his sanity and insanity, Mark should've called him and tell him he misses him and wants him home. 

But Mark also knew that Jackson had a phone too and that Jackson could miss Mark too, but he didn't bother to call him first, and that was something that won't Mark let go of his melancholy. 

Dark moments like these only showed how Mark was not as close to the ideal as Jackson thought. 

**

Mark was asleep in his bed, earbuds painfully pressing into his ear-drums while Dio was singing ' _Rainbow in the dark'_ when he felt his phone vibrating against his naked thigh. Not even remembering how he got into the bed and where was Jinyoung, Mark opened his eyes, whimpering at the sudden attack of sunlight. When he lifted his head off the pillow, the headphones dropped down, and he could hear the ringtone he had set for Jackson only. It was an acoustic guitar with piano in the background. Mark stared groggily at his phone with _Jackson's_ nameacross the screen. It was too early, and he still felt dizzy from the wine. When Mark reached for the phone, the screen went dark. Guilty immediately washed over Mark, and when he unlocked the screen, his breath hitched in his throat. Seven missed calls from Jackson. 

Has he lost his consciousness over the night?

What the _hell._

Never in his life had Mark sobered that fast like that morning. 

When he was about to press the dial button, a message popped up on the screen. _I'm heading to your place since I'm the only one who gives a shit._

Mark's heart tightened. He felt an enormous wool ball pushing against his throat, wrecking him like a train. Not even a ten-second later, Mark was sobbing after reading the text, overwhelmed by the past two weeks. Mark always cared for and loved Jackson with each of his heartbeats until it hurt so badly that he would swear that waking up without Jackson would kill him one day. 

But these days were regular. 

_One, two… thirty, seventy_ nights without his husband by his side. 

So, what happened? Did Jackson came to a messy home and was pissed that Mark wasn't the super husband who would wait for him with a dinner and prepared hole? What was the _shit_ he should've given? 

Jinyoung was in the door before Mark could throw his tantrum on his room's furniture and fragile content. 

"Mark, _Mark…_ " 

The confusion hurt like a bitch. 

It was delirium, an acid trip that didn't go well because, at that time, when Jackson appeared in the bedroom, Mark was on the floor, staring like spell-bounded at the wall in front of him with Jinyoung's arms securely wrapped around him. 

And even though Mark couldn't bring himself to move, he could hear every word. Time passed by in waves, missing Mark like he was a stone bound to the core of Earth.

"I think he has a panic attack," Jinyoung offered as an explanation of why he's holding Jackson's husband in his arms and on the floor, "I was in the living room when he started crying and shouting and…" 

Mark's eyebrows knitted. A hurt whimper left his mouth when he let his head fall against Jinyoung's shoulder. His body felt like icicles, fingers purple, bloodless, lips trembling. What if Jackson came to say goodbye with filled divorce papers because Mark wasn't there when Jackson needed him? _Shit,_ he should've cared about the real _shit._

Mark blinked once, then he closed his eyes for a while, and when he opened them again, Jackson was crouched in front of him, his hand half-way up to cup Mark's face. 

"Yien…" Jackson's voice was soft and filled with worry, "love, what's wrong?" 

"You tell me, what's wrong?" Jinyoung offered, "he's stressed out the past two weeks since you've been gone." 

Jackson didn't respond to Jinyoung. Instead of that, he stroked Mark's cheek, talking to him gently, "I'm sorry. Did my message did this to you?" 

_Oh._

"I'm sorry I was rude. It's… _it's…_ " Jackson sighed, bowing his head in defeat, "I came home, and I thought... I was so happy to come home knowing that you're waiting for _me_ and then…"

 _Shit._ Mark never thought about this option.

 _"_ I was scared when you didn't pick up your phone." 

Mark felt easing the pulsing in his temples when Jackson held his face in his hands as if he was holding a holy grail. His fingers were gentle against his cheeks, so careful and loving that Mark felt even more like a hysterical idiot. The stress, fear, and alcohol mixed in one dose turned him into an irrational madman. 

"I've never seen him like that," Jinyoung said, worried. 

"It's alright, I've got you, baby." Jackson was about to take his husband into his arms and carry him on the bed when Mark finally broke his silence and whispered a single _sorry._

**

Jackson made dinner in their shared apartment, while Mark tried to concentrate on simple tasks like cleaning up. The guilt washed over Mark like a tsunami when he found out that the first thing Jackson did when he came home was folding the laundry that Mark left on the bed. Mark found it sorted neatly with a small pile needed to get ironed in the laundry basket. When Jackson lifted him off the floor after the panic attack, Mark felt that no amount of fight or stupidly he felt could measure with the love they shared. Even a man like Mark had his dark thoughts and moments, which Jackson learned to accept. 

The smell of the cooked chicken hit Mark's nose like a wall. The hunger was real, but he couldn't get himself to go to the kitchen because he would have talked to Jackson about what happened, though it was awaiting him after or during the dinner. Instead of that, Mark took the laundry basket and put it on the floor next to the ironing board, which he pulled out from the closet in the living room. He found a tv channel that was airing The Simpsons and set the heating on iron for cotton. First was one of Jackson's button-down white shirts. He turned it upside down and sprawled the cloth over the board. 

With every move, the cloth went straighter and smelled like a warm blanket in the winter night. Mark felt his eyes sting from emotions. He almost broke his precious relationship with his husband over green envy. After so many days, Mark could say the real name of his problem. Although he refused to stand in the long line of people who envied his husband, he ended right in there, and right in front of Jackson. 

Mark put away the shirt over the couch's backrest and took another one from the pile – another Jackson's one. Too absorbed in his thoughts, Mark didn't know how fast he was done with the shirts. He hung them on hangers in the wall-closet in the bedroom and returned to finish his job. Mark was trying to listen to the show on the TV instead of overthinking everything, so he didn't hear when Jackson entered the room.

"I wish I knew how to iron a shirt without leaving all the folds. You're actually genius." Jackson inspected one of his black button-down that Mark found forgotten on the bottom of the basket. "And it smells so nice." He smiled. 

It was Mark who bought the orchid fabric-softener. 

"I'm glad that it's you who takes care of us. I'd probably mess up everything. Remember when I put liquid soap in the dishwasher?"

Mark smiled at how he could forget about when he was about to empty the machine and found the plates coated with foam and smelling like flowers. 

Jackson put the shirt down and passed the couch. Mark felt the strings tightening and pulling him closer to Jackson. His hand with the iron felt heavy, and he almost dropped the instrument when Jackson wrapped his arms around his waist tightly. There were no words, no sentiment, only his husband holding him, while Mark was trying to straighten his redshirt's cloth. Jackson rested his chin on his shoulder, humming a made-up melody with his warm breath repeatedly hitting the back of Mark's neck, making him shiver. 

"Why so nervous?" Jackson whispered into his ear. 

Mark was close to melting. He had to put the iron on the side and brace himself against the board. Lowering his head, he felt how his heart was trying to fight his brain again. Love was like surgery; it could kill or save someone's life. Mark stood in the middle, where he could protect and be protected back. 

"I'm sorry," Mark's voice broke, " _so sorry,_ that I wasn't here for you."

Jackson held him tighter against his chest. With each of the flexing of his muscles, Mark felt more fragile. A sob left his mouth, involuntarily, breaking the gate of Mark's lungs when Jackson's hold almost squeezed the last breath out of him. 

"You're always here for me," Jackson kissed his neck, " _always._ " 

Once Mark said that he's Jackson's home, and he meant every letter. He didn't keep his promise as the stupid envy and jealousy possessed his heart. Never in his life, Mark felt so _wrong._

"I was scared," Mark took a deep breath, which made Jackson loosen up his arms around him, "scared that you would leave me." 

"I married you, my love," Jackson nuzzled his face into Mark's neck, "for a _reason._ And that reason is that I know I'm more than just a crazy, rich guy to you. You're so incredibly gentle and kind to me. Your love saves me when I can't go on anymore. You never ask me to abandon things for you, and I know you want to, you should, baby. But instead of that, we share my problems and my sadness and happiness. You have no idea what you mean to me, Yien."

**

Mark was about to flip tables when Jackson did something stupid in the game they were playing. They were losing because Jackson found it funny that he got stuck between boxes and couldn't jump up. Mark shoved at his shoulder, while Jackson, with a laugh so loud he could wake up dead, fell on the carpet still holding his controller while pressing X repeatedly as if it should revive his dead character. 

"Press _f_ to pay respect," Jackson laughed when the MENU screen popped up on the screen. It was over. Mark put away his controller, and if Jackson weren't lying on the floor already, he would tackle him down. Milo came from the kitchen barking at them. He jumped right to Jackson and licked his chin. 

"Oh my god, how am I supposed to fight two babies," Jackson laughed. 

"I'll show you who's the baby in our marriage."

Jackson wiggled his fingers, " _oh,_ I'm scared already." 

Mark leaned down, the smile from his face disappeared when he frowned, looking straight into Jackson's eyes with solidly built authority. Jackson stopped laughing as on command and returned Mark the gaze, though it was tender and more vulnerable. 

"What is it, Yien?" Jackson spoke in Chinese, lifting his hand to brush the black bangs from Mark's eyes, "are we going to dirty the brand-new sheets?" 

Mark watched him with concern while each of the words went straight to his sweatpants. It was eleven in the evening, and they had no better things to do than fooling around with games and very late snacks, which ended up abandoned on the table. Jackson complained about his belly fat, at which Mark rolled his eyes and poked his six-pack with no evident intention. They rolled for a bit on the couch until they ended up on the floor; Mark on his front while Jackson rested his head on his butt cheeks, swearing to god that if Mark farts, he's going to reclaim him. Mark responded lazily, too absorbed in the game: _funny you don't say such thing when your cock is in my ass._

But right now, Jackson wouldn't give the slightest damn about natural body functions; all he saw was his breathtaking husband hovering over him like a wet dream. 

"We don't have to move an inch," Mark said before he sank lower and pressed his lips against Jackson's. 

"But," Jackson whined, "I don't want burns on my knees, or back." 

Mark hummed, ignoring the whining tone while his lips traveled south across Jackson's chin and neck to his collarbones. Just yesterday, he ironed this shirt for his husband; they had a heeling moment when Mark still could feel the ghost touch of Jackson's firm embrace. 

"I'll be gentle." 

Jackson exhaled slowly when Mark's hands started to roam all over his chest, fingers brushing against his hardening nipples. He was about to change the angle, to push his body closer to his husband's and spread his legs for him, when a bark interrupted their moment. Jackson immediately turned his head only to see Milo sitting by the chair and watching them.

"Oh shit."

"Yeah, shit, indeed…" Mark said when his palms slide under the cotton shirt, "I love your skin, so smooth like silk…"

"No, you dumbass," Jackson propped himself on his elbows, "Milo is watching."

"What _milo…_ " it took a while to Mark before he looked up, his hands still buried under Jackson's clothes. " _Oh._ "

They watched the dog for a minute ere Mark lifted himself on his knees and returned his attention to his husband, who was sprawled on the wine-red carpet like a five-stars dish ready to be eaten. _Oh,_ that would be Mark doing right now if Milo wasn't such a cockblocker; Mark would have his face buried up to Jackson's ass and see the light only in the morning. Mark examined the position of his husband. He wouldn't be able to lift him from the floor bride-style, he was sure, but the picture of blushing Jackson holding onto his body for dear life was tempting. 

"Are you gonna spend the night on the carpet?" Mark asked instead and stood up. 

"I don't know!" Jackson rolled lazily on his stomach, "carry me?"

"How am I supposed to carry you when you're lying like this?"

Jackson whined and rolled again, this time on his back, closer to his husband. He stretched out his hands and closed-opened his fist like a baby. Mark swore to all Greek gods that if someone tried to steal his husband, he would go on a killing spree. There was no word in any language that could explain how much Mark loved him. 

"Alright, baby, but help me a bit." 

The younger man didn't lift a finger; he was staring up at Mark, his arms still in the air, and his expression the most lovable thing in that moment. Mark would find a way how to carry him, but there was also this option of taking his dog instead, so he did. With one long step, he was right by Milo, lifting him into his arms. Mark laid his dog on the chair in the bedroom. He scratched behind his ear to calm the fur ball down, at which Milo really put his head down on his paws and closed his eyes.

"But Mark!" 

"I'm coming, baby!" Mark yelled from the bedroom, fishing out a bottle of lube. 

"This is unromantic!" 

"I'm coming, baby, the love of my life, my starlight…" Mark washed his hands in the bathroom before he came out running and almost tripped over the cushions they've scattered around over their gaming time. 

"Four months in marriage, and you're like this already," Jackson said, still lying on the carpet next to the couch. 

"If you weren't a lazy baby, we could be in bed with my head between your thighs right now." Mark put the lube down next to Jackson, who twisted his head to look and grab the bottle while Mark pulled off his sweater and went straight down to undress his husband. Jackson was studying the label, ignoring the tugging, and yanking at his clothes. When he felt the cold air hit his private area, he whined and looked at Mark, who was reaching for the bottle. 

"I don't know if I want it anymore." Jackson put his hand out of Mark's reach, "I'm cold, and my ass is rubbing against the rough carpet."

"But it was you who bought the _rough carpet,_ baby." Mark tried to hold his bedroom face, but it was too hard to keep the laugh under the surface when Jackson was doing his pouty face while being naked from his waist down. 

"So what? Should I put my pants down and try the carpet with my bare ass next time?"

Mark rested his hands next to his husband's hips and lowered his head with a laugh, "four months in marriage, and you're already like _this_?" 

"That's my line!" Jackson giggled. 

"Alright…" Mark took a few deep breaths to relax. Trying to concentrate only on one task, he squeezed Jackson's sides, gently caressing his tender skin. It took only one proper look at Jackson's half-hard cock, and the laugh ultimately died. A throaty moan escaped Mark's mouth when Jackson lifted his hips to find a better position. 

"Now, sweetheart," Mark cleared his throat with a clear vision when his hands moved down to Jackson's inner thighs and spread them wildly. "You really look like a five-course meal." With that, Mark sank between his husband's open legs and mouthed against the tender skin above his cock. 

Jackson's heartbeat followed up on his breathing rhythm when he had looked down and met with Mark's hungry gaze. It was a liquid fire; each of the licks, kisses, and the hot breath, was melting his skin and turning him into cotton candy. 

"Why do you taste so sweet?" Mark had his fingers gently wrapped around the base of Jackson's cock, the tip of his tongue wandering around the head, hungrily fishing for every translucent drop. "It's ridiculous."

"I eat healthy, not like _you…_ " Jackson moaned when Mark swallowed the head into his mouth, giving his husband an innocent look. "you son of a… _fairy._ " 

Mark almost choked when he heard that. He let go and coughed, "what the heck, Jacks?" 

" _This_ is ridiculous!" Jackson propped himself on his forearms once again, "why can't I have you suck my cock like a proper husband?"

"So now it's my fault that you call me _a son of a fairy_ while I have _your_ cock in my mouth?"

Jackson whined, irritated, "fine." 

"Lay back down, or I swear I'll muffle you, sweetheart!" 

Jackson pouted at that but didn't say a word. He looked around for a second until he found a black cushion and put it under his head. He looked down between his spread legs at his husband, who was waiting for him with a satisfied smile, his look annoyed. 

"I can't believe you…" he muttered. 

"Now, I can see you properly. Go down with the business, baby." 

Mark snatched the lube from the floor. He could feel the stare of his husband on each move of his hands. When Mark poured an enormous amount of lube into his palm, Jackson gulped audibly. The dirty look of his husband almost managed to swallow his whole soul.

"I heard someone likes it really _really_ wet." Mark half-whispered, his voice deep and rough, "so wet that I could drown in his slick."

" _Shut up, oh my dear lord you_ …" Jackson slurred, embarrassed. 

Mark crawled back between his husband's legs and closed his lubed palm over the hardening dick. The liquid was still cold and a shiver run down Jackson's spine. He trembled, cursing the world, but then Mark swallowed the tip of Jackson's cock while his hand was warming the liquid, which was dropping everywhere. 

"I'm going to play," Mark whispered, his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin, "with your foreskin until you're squirming and begging me." 

Slowly, Jackson's eyelids were closing. He was feeling each of Mark's words, imagining them and getting harder and harder until he couldn't anymore, and a stream of pre-come left his cock. By now, everything had to be mixing; the strawberry flavored lube with his precome and Mark's saliva. What a _wet mess_ this was. Jackson truly felt like a meal. 

It was then when Mark pressed his hands against Jackson's thighs and pushed them forward, so his knees were resting next to his hips. Jackson moaned loudly, the rough carped scrapping his tailbone, but Mark didn't give him time for complaining when his tongue brushed over his entrance. 

" _Fuck,_ " Jackson whimpered loudly, " _fucking…_ "

Mark pressed his tongue deeper, mouth closing over his hole impatiently, while his hands were still holding Jackson wide-open for himself. A long string of curses escaped Jackson's mouth as his hole was getting rimmed hungrily. The translucent mess on his groin was reflecting off the dim lights of the living room, and all Jackson could think about was how _fucking_ nasty they were _—_ husbands or not. 

"Mark, _Mark…_ " Jackson clawed his fingers into the carpet, preventing himself from touching his cock.

"Just a little bit more, _baby._ " 

The mess on the carpet was the last thing Jackson cared about when Mark inserted finger after finger into his clenching hole. It went inside with such ease that Jackson started to think that his body went a step further into evolution just for Mark and his dick. The wet sound was mixing with their moans, and knowing that they were about to fuck on the floor, made Jackson squirm a bit, closing around Mark's fingers and pressing his ass back against the palm. 

With a single, _please_ falling out of Jackson's mouth, Mark was withdrawing, getting into a position with hooking his arm under his husband's knee. Mark only pushed the waistband of his sweats and underwear over his already hard dick before he slowly pumped it out of the precome and leaned closer, pressing it carefully against Jackson's entrance. 

That _goddamnit_ carpet was a huge mistake. 

That stupid rough carpet could burn in hell. 

Good that they've decided to leave Jackson's shirt on. 

But still, Jackson could feel each of the brush against his back. At first, it was uncomfortable, but when Mark pressed fully inside him, and the adrenaline took over the pain on his back. Mark didn't know, and he couldn't say because Jackson was a moaning mess right under his body. When Mark decided to change their position and helped Jackson sit up, Jackson climbed into Mark's lap instead of getting on his knees and hands and pressed his back against his husband's chest. He didn't give Mark any breather and grabbed his cock to push it back inside. 

"Are you trying to kill me?" Mark whispered breathlessly, "I don't know if I can survive you riding me at this moment." 

"You scared you'll come too fast, like the last time?" Jackson smirked at him over his shoulder. 

Mark held him close and still, his fingers painfully pressing against the delicate skin on Jackson's hipbones. Jackson knew he crossed the thin line when he called out Mark's stamina, but at that moment, when his back hurt and Mark was rock-hard resting in his ass? Jackson didn't give a single _fuck._ And then, instead of wording his frustration, Mark started to bit Jackson's shoulder through the shirt. When it was not enough, he rolled the annoying cloth up, which revealed the slightly irritated skin on Jackson's back. Mark steadied himself and put a big STOP over his thirst. He replaced the biting and sucking for gentle kisses and licks all over the upper back and the nape. 

"Teasing me like that after only four months of marriage," Mark chuckled, "if I could, you would be walking all marked and bruised from love bites. That's what you deserve for being a brat."

An amused smirk appeared on Jackson's face, "good that people can't see my ass." 

Playfully patting Jackson's ass, Mark hummed, "Now, ride me, will you?"

"And where?" 

To hell with rational thinking. Mark sank his teeth into Jackson's shoulder and sucked. He sucked hard until an angry bruise appeared that lasted longer than a week. 

**

Jackson thought that filming a short _behind the scenes_ video in their recording studio would be fine, a fresh new start, a beginning, but Youngjae was a nightmare with all of his pokes and slaps and bro-punches. It was always a fight to get the younger in order. That little shit was today having fun with Jackson's shoulder when he found out that a bruise was blooming there. He acted like a sweet little boy, holding onto Jackson's shoulder and squeezing it tightly, sometimes resting his head right against the lovebite. The cameras were still rolling, and evidently, everyone was having fun, with Jinyoung commanding the whole bullshit. 

"Did you hurt yourself in the gym again?" Jinyoung asked. 

That was enough! That was when Jackson's decided he's the older one and he could flip them all mercilessly and nobody would give a damn. "No, you bit me, remember?"

Jinyoung blinked, the staff gasped, and Mark threw a plush pillow at Jaebeom, who laughed too loud at that. 

"Hyung, that's nasty," Yugyeom shook his head, "biting your friend like that."

" _Jinson_!" Bam yelled from the background. 

Jackson didn't see the apocalypse coming until he saw Mark staring at him like a materialized vengeance. It wasn't his fault that the youngers were so dirty and cheeky and couldn't respect the elders as they deserved, but somehow when Mark frowned at them, all the fun was suddenly dead. Jackson wished he had that kind of _frown_ that could kill nations. 

"That's enough," Jaebeom ordered, "or I'll drag you to my house and make you clean it up."

"Gross, hyung!" Yugyeom shouted. 

At least Jackson was freed from the evil zombies _maknaes_ , and the weird middle guy who was always climbing on Mark's for the dear of his life, as if Mark could protect him from dragons, and evil wizards, which even Jackson believed was possible. 

"We'll take a break…" the director waved his hand in dismiss, "we can't have that on the video anyway. Good, we're not going live. What the hell."

Jackson sighed at that, rubbing his face in disbelief. It took him a bit to calm down enough to face the other members again, but when he turned around, Mark wasn't there anymore. 

Mark was in the corner, holding a coffee in his hand when Jackson found him sitting in the darkness of the lobby. For a second, Jackson only stared and thought about if it's a good idea even to reach Mark right now. He gave it a second and silently praised his husband, who was wearing an oversized black sweater and a leather jacket over it. He looked so good, still, no matter what. These long and slim legs crossed with ankle boots on, Jackson felt his mouth salivated. 

"If we weren't married yet, I would ask you again," Jackson whispered when he stood up next to his husband and leaned against the wall. 

"I don't know if my answer would be the same," Mark sipped the coffee.

The answer left Jackson speechless. 

"Look, I have only as much patience as my heart allows me. If you're going around shipping yourself with Jinyoung, then do it when we're not married." 

"There's no _when we're not married_!" Jackson's voice darkened, "and I'm definitely not shipping myself with _anyone._ " 

"Cool," Mark shrugged it off coldly. 

"What the hell, Yien?" quickly, Jackson shifted into Chinese, "what's possessed you? What should I say? That it was you who bit me? You know that people take it easy when I fool around with Jinyoung; they take it as a joke, but if I would say _you_ bit me…. Jesus _fuck._ We're not a joke." 

Mark sighed at that. 

"It's the same as when you fool around with Jinyoung, and I would say that's more dangerous than me trying to kiss his cheek every two seconds. You climbed him, Mark. Remember when you fucking climbed him on the bed, and he looked so messed up after as if you just went straight for his cock."

Mark's teeth clinked against the ceramic cup. He was getting angrier with each of Jackson's words. The truth to be told, every interaction with other members was to camouflage his relationship with Jackson. But as it went further and further, they've been losing their minds, and when Mark could no longer touch Jackson as he was used to, he went to Jinyoung and poured his frustration there. It was scary because both of them used Jinyoung to cover themselves up. 

"We should stop," Mark lowered his hand with the cup down, "it has a bad influence on Jiynoung." 

"I agree." 

"Fine." 

Mark was about to stand up and leave his husband when Jackson gently grabbed his wrist and pulled him back on the single chair. At first, Mark refused to look back, but Jackson's silent plea melted any resistance. Mark looked up, searching in his husband's eyes for any discomfort. Silently, they assured each other that they're okay and still in love. Jackson whispered silent _wǒ ài nǐ,_ which Mark returned with a smile and in a loving gesture of stroking his husband's abused shoulder. 

"I am proud of the mark," Jackson whispered with a smile, "it makes me immune against black magic."

Though Mark fought the urge, he had to laugh into his palm, "you're so silly."

"Yeah," Jackson chuckled, "but you married me anyway."

"I would do it again."

"I _know._ " 

"No matter what I say when I'm insecure," Mark smiled, "I would." 

"I _know._ " 

**Author's Note:**

> These days, I feel like more markson authors are active. I'm glad. Also, leave a comment, and if you have any ideas or wishes, let me know. This AU is opened, and I'd gladly take your prompts (if it's like not too much like space traveling or sm. stay real).  
> I know my English is not that well polished, but I'm trying. Writing helps me to study the language.


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